


Got You

by KisstheRainWriting



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Jealousy, Reader Insert, Romance, listen I don't undertsand artron energy, thirteenth doctor imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KisstheRainWriting/pseuds/KisstheRainWriting
Summary: When you fall out of a malfunctioning TARDIS, the Doctor finds herself panicking for more than one reason.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/You, Thirteenth Doctor/Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	Got You

You skidded into the console room, your fuzzy socks slick on the paneled floor. It was half-past… something? At night? It was about three hours into what the human portion of Team TARDIS had deemed bedtime. You’d been having a really lovely dream, something soft and warm that you could only half-remember now, when your whole room had started shaking.

“Hey, Doc!” you called out into the room. You had to shield your eyes; the TARDIS console was glowing five times brighter than it normally did. “Doc, are you there?”

“’m here!” the Doctor’s voice was an ambient echo, everywhere and nowhere in particular. It sounded strained, like she was concentrating. “You lot all right?”

“I think so!” The glare from the console made your eyes water, but you padded further into the room as you tried to spot the Doctor. “What’s going on?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned. Graham. “Everything okay? Woke up to an earthquake.”

“Not an earthquake!” the Doctor assured him, and he grunted at being taken so literally. “Somethin’s wrong with the TARDIS. I think she ate something that disagreed with her.”

Graham surveyed the TARDIS with wary eyes. “The TARDIS… eats?”

“No, not _eat_ eats exactly,” she amended. Sparks trickled down from a cluster of wires. “I mean energy, artron energy. Think she hit a big spike in the Time Vortex, absorbed it, and now she’s overfull. Like a turkey dinner with a stuffed chicken for dessert. Having a hard time keeping it down, doesn’t want to put it back.”

You shrugged at Graham’s raised eyebrows, not really understanding any more than he did. “Doctor, where are you? We can’t see you.”

“Down here!”

You followed her voice down to the TARDIS control panels. You took light steps, as if any wrong move would send the ship rattling through space again. You still didn’t see her. The harsh lighting didn’t help. You could hear Graham moving behind you.

“Little to the left!”

You stopped at the TARDIS’s big lever and, squinting, peaked under the switchboard.

A blond head popped out from under the TARDIS console by your feet. A big, greasy stain was streaked across her nose, and she was wearing those chunky round goggles that made her look like she was about to go snorkeling with Captain Nemo. “Hello!”

You grinned. “Hello, yourself. Need any help?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll—that I’ll—” the Doctor stumbled over the rest of her sentence. The corners of her mouth fell slack. Her brown eyes had faltered as they rose up to look at you, her gaze slowing down to take in the length of your calves, traveling up to rest on your mostly-bare thighs. Suddenly, throat dry, she was very much aware that you’d gone to bed in only a large white t-shirt. That she was currently staring straight up—

The Doctor jolted, slamming her head into console. Her petulant little “ _Ow!”_ was drowned out by the TARDIS console flashing a sickly shade of chartreuse and a mechanical wail piercing the air. You stumbled back, hands over your ears.

“She’s materializing!” the Doctor shouted over the brakes. “Struggling to stay in the Time Vortex! I don’t know where we’ll—"

The TARDIS tipped. The Doctor went sliding out from under the console, her jacket bunching up under her as she skidded down the paneled floor. Nearby, Graham crashed into one of the hexagon-lined walls. You were thrown back, dropping backward against the TARDIS entrance. For a still, short moment, you were pressed against the police box doors, the wood panels digging into your arms. Then, as the TARDIS bobbed again, straightening itself, the doors jerked back, and there was nothing behind you at all.

The Doctor’s eyes widened at your scream. A horrifying nano-second passed where she thought you’d disappeared completely, but—there: your hands, still clutching the floor of the TARDIS’s doorway. 

The Doctor lunged forward, grabbing your forearms just under the wrists. “Got ya!”

You tried to call up to her for help, or to say her name, but you were a coil of frantic energy. You could feel the hot wind of an unknown atmosphere all around you. You were definitely on some planet, who knows how high off the ground. If there was a ground. You didn’t want to look. The Doctor tried to haul you up, but the surface gravity of this planet was more than she’d expected, pulling you down, and the TARDIS’s erratic movements certainly weren’t helping.

“Don’t worry!” the Doctor shouted. You could hardly hear her through the air roaring past your ears as the TARDIS zigzagged. “You can’t fall out of the TARDIS!”

Your stomach bottomed out. Was she serious? Clutching her arms, you managed to scream, “Doctor! The first time I met you, you were _literally falling out of the TARDIS_!”

She grimaced and readjusted her stance. “Right.” The Doctor glanced back at the console. Her brow furrowed. “Right! Okay, Y/N, I’m going to let go—“

“ _What_?” You shrieked, and you could vaguely hear Graham protesting in the background. “No! Absolutely not!”

“I have to reach my sonic,” the Doctor’s voice was probably meant to sooth you. It wasn’t working. One of your socks slipped off, and you felt it drop who-knows-how-far below you. “If I can grab it, I can remote pilot the TARDIS to rotate, you’ll just drop in easy.”

“That’s insane!” The TARDIS gave a particularly violent lurch to the right, and your legs scrambled beneath you, kicking through indigo clouds.

“On three,” she grunted, her grip on you steel. “Ready? One…”

“Doctor, don’t you dare!”

“Two…“

Your grasp on her coat sleeve was desperate. Your voice cracked. “Doctor, please.”

“ _Three_!”

She dropped you.

In one fluid movement, the Doctor whipped her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and stretched it back toward the console. The sonic lit up and pulsated, the TARDIS braking-system screeched in protest, and you fell away from the Doctor, your arms still stretched out for hands that were no longer there. Your throat constricted, a tightness that traveled down to your chest. Everything else was a horrible blank—too slow, too weightless, too much wind rushing up against you.

The TARDIS lurched sideways and dropped beneath you, scooping you up through its blue doors.

You barreled inside, slamming into the Doctor’s chest, and she toppled over beneath you. Reflexively, you latched onto her as the TARDIS leveled out. “I’ve got you, I promise,” she mumbled into your hair, a little winded. “See? Told you, nothing to worry about.”

“You—you never said that,” you countered, your breathing ragged. You’d grabbed a fistful of her coat, as if you’d fall out again should you let go. She sat up. You didn’t budge. 

A fond smile quirked at her lips. Always so stubborn. “Well, I meant to.” A wrinkle creased the Doctor’s brow; you were shaking as if deathly cold. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re all right.”

“Never d-doing that again,” you said, voice a low tremolo. “No adventures with—h-heights for a month. Two months. M-minimum.”

“Firmly on the ground, I promise.” Halfway through her assurance, she began registering how tangled her limbs were with yours. Your bare legs were tucked up over hers, the TARDIS lights (still a sickly green), bouncing off your skin. Chest to chest, she could feel your frantic heartbeat. Mixing with the fading worry and relief that you were safe, a flushing heat crept through her.

_All right, none of that now. You’d just had a big scare. Completely not the time._

You shifted in the Doctor’s lap, your face buried into the crook of her neck, hot breath fanning her skin in shaky bursts.

_Oh, dear._

The Doctor’s head snapped up as footsteps pounded closer. Yaz and Ryan, also in pajamas, charged into the console room. A sleep mask was tangled up in Yaz’s hair, and Ryan had put one untied shoe on. 

“Doctor, what was that?” Yaz demanded, steadying herself on the wall.

Ryan went to check on Graham, who patted his back reassuringly. “It was like Inception for a minute there,” he added, “We were basically on the ceiling.” 

“TARDIS trouble, but we’re fine.” The Doctor said, then mouthed ‘help’ over your shoulder, nodding her head toward you. 

Yaz immediately dropped down beside you, hand resting on your back. “Hey there, you all right? What happened?”

You let out a wobbly self-deprecating laugh. “I fell out of the TARDIS.”

“You—what?” Yaz’s eyes shot over to the Doctor, who grimaced.

Yaz wrapped her arm around you, and you collapsed into her, finally letting the Doctor loose. A little hiccup escaped your lips. “God, sorry, this is dumb,” your words shook. “ _Sorry._ I don—don’t know what’s happening.”

“Excess adrenaline from the fall,” the Doctor explained, clearing her throat as she stood. “You’re having a panic attack. Totally normal, should pass soon…” she trailed off, eyes squinting together, wondering where the abrupt frustration building beneath her sternum was coming from. She unclenched her hand—when had she done that?

The Doctor watched Yaz rub small circles on your shoulder blade as little comforts breezed past her lips and into your hair. The Doctor’s already white-knuckled grip on her sonic tightened.

_Ah. Okay, so, this was worse. Yaz holding you was worse._

The Doctor tried to school her facial features into a more neutral expression, but her jaw tensed as Yaz helped you to your feet, arm still slung over your shoulder.

The TARDIS console shifted from green to a sort of lemon-lime. Grateful for the distraction, the Doctor strode toward it, eyes flickering over the gauges. “Looks like the TARDIS is stabilizing,” she announced. “Still, I need to make sure there wasn’t any lasting damage to the engines. It’ll take a bit, but you lot can head back to bed. Should be smooth enough sailing.”

“Doctor?”

You’d said her name softly, but she jumped anyway. “Hm?”

Then you were pressed up against her again, your arms wrapped around her middle in a tight hug. “Thank you,” you said into her t-shirt.

“Not mad I dropped you?” the Doctor asked, a little nervous. You smelled nice. And you were so _warm._

“Oh, I’m furious. But thank you for doing it.”

Hugging you had always been nice, the Doctor would admit that to herself. She’d never minded having you close before. But now, hearts hammering, maybe a little adrenaline-high herself, it was extra nice. 

_Very extra nice._

The Doctor spun on her heel, shoving her goggles over her eyes as she released you. “All right then, goodnight!” 

Team TARDIS watched her begin noisily fiddling with the console. One of the knobs popped right off. Ryan smirked, locking eyes with Yaz, who looked like she was trying hard to suppress a grin of her own. 

“Do you need any help?” Graham offered, watching in confusion as the Doctor looked your way and fumbled with what looked like a tri-part wrench.

“No! Nope! ‘m good! You all just go back to bed.”

After some final reassurances that you were doing better, Ryan and Graham said good night to you and Yasmin at your bedroom doors. As the two continued down the hall, Graham glanced back. “The Doc sure was in a hurry to get us out of there,” he remarked. “Wonder what’s with her.” 

Ryan grin lit up again. “Textbook disaster lesbian.”

Graham’s brows knit into a frown. “Can you… say that? As a non-lesbian?”

A clang echoed all the way from the console room, followed by the Doctor’s strangled yelp. 

“… never mind,” Graham conceded. “I get it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: First posted fic with Thirteen! And it’s just her ogling the reader’s legs. That was seriously the working title. Just “13 and Legs Haha That’s It.” Listen, is this the first time I’ve written the Doctor ogling the Reader and hitting their head on the console? No. Heavily inspired by My Olde Fanficke “Who Likes Short-Shorts?” which I’ll edit and upload here at some point (hopefully with a better title, yikes). Will it be the last time I have the Doctor hit their head while doing maintenance and eyeing up the reader? No. I am a goblin, and this my goblin content.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I really love hearing from y’all. Goblins are notoriously needy. I hope y’all are well ♥


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